


That One Summer, All Those Years Ago

by orchidlocked



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Big Sappy Hours, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Established Relationship, FallTCHEvent, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Marathon Sex, Marriage Proposal, Memories, Other, Power Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Sexy and Sappy, Shower Sex, South Downs, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Tops With Big Emotions, bending time, post armageddon, sweet and sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26446780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidlocked/pseuds/orchidlocked
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley spent one beautiful, tender summer in a very special cottage in South Downs. Now, after the apocalypse, Crowley is trying to surprise his Angel by purchasing it. However, trying to surprise someone you've known for 6000 years can be difficult. Add in two jackass estate agents and you have a recipe for hijinks and shenanigans! A good time is had by our favorite angel and demon as they reenact some of their favorite memories from that one summer, all those years ago...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 137





	That One Summer, All Those Years Ago

**Author's Note:**

> this is for the Top Crowley Hell discord's "South Downs" fall event! woo

Crowley hated having other people in his car, but there wasn’t much he could do about it at the moment. It was either let the estate agent drive him to the cottage, and therefore have to tolerate someone else’s driving (unacceptable) or what was currently taking place; the estate agent prattling on and on while Crowley and the Bentley did their best to find the shortest possible route to the cottage. Or The Cottage, as when Crowley reminisced about it, it was an Experience worth Capitalizing. His mind began to wander and he stopped it, because he knew where things would lead if he replayed too many memories. He’d get distracted and well, now was neither the time nor the place.

The demon felt an unwelcome poke in his side. “Did you hear me there, mate?”

“I’m sorry?” Crowley couldn’t remember his name - was it Mark, or Mike, or…

“It’s all right, Mick’ll take care of you,” the estate agent said as he reached for the volume dial on the stereo.

“Don’t do that,” Crowley said.

“Right.”

They rode in silence for the rest of the mercifully short ride; the Bentley, having sensed Crowley’s acute annoyance, managed to shave several minutes off the journey. Crowley finally saw The Cottage, and everything was as he remembered it, the same lilac shutters bordering windows decorated by overflowing window boxes, the same perfectly trimmed hedges, the ivy climbing up the south wall, the adorable round chimney.

“It’s nice, right?” Mick said. “I’ve had calls about it all week.”

“Yep.” Crowley offered to buy the place sight unseen, but this guy, this ‘Mick’ had insisted on showing him the cottage before even considering anything. He hoped the suitcase full of cash would help make this a brief transaction.

“Bloody buggering hell,” Mick muttered. “It’s Rupert, innit? Gods damnit, it’s bloody Rupert here.”

“Um-” Crowley looked around, “-Is something-“

“Rupert. Rupert, Rupert, Rupert, the little prick. Thought he’d get someone else in here before I could get my client in here, did he? Well I’ll show him.” Mick opened the door before Crowley had come to a complete stop, and he slammed on the brakes; the resulting squeal was loud enough for a few neighbors to come to their windows and peer out.

Crowley shook his head. “Thanks, there,” he said, patting the steering wheel of the Bentley. He got out of the car and walked towards the cottage; he heard something that sounded like breaking glass and leapt up the stairs. He flung the door open and was greeted by pure chaos.

Mick froze. He had a plate in his hand, and there were remnants of broken ceramic at the feet of a tall, well-dressed man who was backed up against the wall. In between the two of them was… Aziraphale. Crowley took in the scene, and despite his mild desire to know what was happening between his estate agent and this other man, he only wanted to know why his angel was here, at the cottage they’d rented for a summer some twenty years ago.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Crowley asked. He was staring directly at Aziraphale, who was fidgeting and avoiding eye contact with him. 

“This man’s trying to murder me, can’t you see?” cried out the tall man. He clutched his chest and reached for Aziraphale. “Please! Stop him!”

“Rupert, you cheating, lying son of a bitch. I ought to stab you with this!” Mick waved the plate around menacingly.

Crowley opened his mouth to point out that you couldn’t actually stab someone with a round object, but Aziraphale spoke first.

“Gentlemen,” Aziraphale removed Rupert’s fingers from his sleeve, stepped away, straightened his pink bowtie, “I have no idea what is happening between the two of you, and quite frankly, I don’t care to find out.”

Crowley felt something inside him light up as Aziraphale pulled out the prim and proper routine on these two.

The angel cleared his throat and nodded. “Crowley,” he said, finally addressing the fact that his partner was standing in front of him. Crowley gave him a little wave.

“I’ll have you both know, I came all this way from London with the full intention of viewing this cottage,” Aziraphale continued, his voice getting louder with every word, “and I didn’t come all this way to be caught in the midst of this utterly unprofessional behavior.” His voice had taken on that crisp quality it did when he was feeling particularly righteous about something. “Now, if you will excuse me, I would very much like to take my right time looking at this cottage.”

Mick and Rupert stared at each other with palpable disdain.

“Don’t you want me to show you around properly?” Rupert asked.

“Hey! I had an appointment scheduled for Mr. Crowley at two, it’s five minutes till two, you bastard!” Mick barked.

“Gentlemen!” Aziraphale thundered. “Unlike the two of you, Mr. Crowley and I are adults, and we are capable of behaving like it. Rupert, I’ll have you wait for me outside.”

Mick turned to look at Crowley. “Are you sure you-“

“Yeah, right-“ Crowley gestured towards the door, “-go on then. I’ll have a look around.”

Both estate agents meekly headed for the door. Once they’d stepped outside, Mick and Rupert resumed their arguing, the sounds of their voices growing quieter as they headed towards the street.

Crowley tilted his head and let his sunglasses slide down his nose.

“Crowley.”

“What on earth are you doing here, Angel? You told me you were going to be reviewing that new Moroccan spot down the way.” After the thwarted Apocalypse, Aziraphale had taken up a part-time position as a food reviewer, mostly so he could satisfy his sophisticated palate.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “And you told me you were going to be out for the weekend putting up more fake road construction.” Crowley had continued to get up to what he called “hijinks” every now and then, choosing to engage in some trouble for the sake of plausible deniability on the off-chance that his Side ever tried anything.

Crowley scowled. “But we both ended up here.”

“Yes, we did.”

Crowley started to circle Aziraphale, and the angel felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “Here at the cottage where we spent that one summer.”

“At the very place.” Aziraphale licked his lips, began fidgeting with the false pocket of his seersucker jacket.

“We got up to quite a lot that summer.”

Aziraphale blinked rapidly. “Yes, Crowley, we did.” His voice had gone breathy, much to Crowley’s delight.

“Quite a lot. I remember there was a sofa-” he was facing Aziraphale now, and pointed over the angel’s shoulder, “-right over there. Do you remember that, Angel?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said slowly. Oh, did he ever remember the hideous, faded floral sofa that was awkwardly positioned in the living room.

Crowley came closer. “Tell me what happened when we walked in here all those years ago.”

“Crowley, you know exactly what happened.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Well, ah, once we arrived - if I recall it happened rather quickly - you, erm, you were on me in an instant-"

“Wait just a minute – I was on you? That’s not exactly how I remember it.”

“All right, dear, if you must get – it’s all rather technical at this point – I suppose it was I who – oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale stammered out as Crowley snaked a slender arm around his waist.

“Go on.”

“As I now remember, the ride down was rather exciting for both of us, and since you insist on – I still think we were _both_ escalating the situation – and once we ended up in here, you, you took me.”

“I took you where?” Crowley had both arms around Aziraphale now; his hands wandered down the angel’s back and he tapped his fingers against the angel’s arse.

Aziraphale’s limited self-control was faltering, and he knew that Crowley knew it. “You took me – you had me over the back of the sofa.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Crowley’s voice was melodic, amused. “I had you - I fucked you - right there, right over the back of the sofa. If I recall, on the side and the front of it, too.”

“Yes.”

Crowley was running his lips over Aziraphale’s jaw, his neck, letting his warm breath ghost all over every portion of the angel’s exposed skin. “I would like it very much if we could reenact some of our favorite moments from that summer. Since we’re here and all.” He pressed his hips against Aziraphale’s, let the angel feel him, hot, hard, and ready.

“Oh, goodness, yes,” Aziraphale gasped, “please don’t make me wait any longer, my dearest, I can hardly stand it.”

“I can’t wait either, Angel.” Crowley kissed Aziraphale, snapped his fingers, and instantly everything appeared as it did that one magical summer. The ugly floral sofa, the crooked frames of crewel artwork on the walls, the fragrance of sweet peas drifting in through an open window.

Aziraphale let out a squeak against Crowley’s lips as the demon pushed him up against the back of the sofa.

“How do you want it?”

“Exactly the same as you gave it to me all those years ago,” Aziraphale said with a smile.

Crowley raised an eyebrow, then was on Aziraphale all at once, seemingly enveloping the angel from all directions. Crowley bent him over the back of the couch; he wasn’t sure whether he removed Aziraphale’s clothes with his fingers or with the power of his thoughts, but either way, his hands were touching angel skin, so it didn’t matter. The demon groaned as he ran his hand up Aziraphale’s thigh. “Already sopping wet, are you?”

“You know it never takes me long to-“

Crowley smashed his lips gracelessly against Azirpahale’s as he slipped two fingers over the angel’s clit. “I know.” The belt around his narrow hips loosened of its own accord, and Crowley peeled his tight trousers off.

Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder with an amused look on his face. “Surprised you were able to get out of those so quickly.”

“You said you wanted it exactly the same,” was all Crowley said before he took himself in hand and slid into Aziraphale with one fluid motion. That one time, all those years ago, they’d driven down from London on a lazy afternoon. They weren’t able to keep their hands off each other, or, Aziraphale wasn’t able to keep his hands to himself. He started off slowly, with a hand on Crowley’s thigh, but by the time they’d made it to Worthing, Crowley had managed to get Aziraphale off four times without so much as swerving into the opposite lane. Once they’d arrived at the cottage, Aziraphale had dragged Crowley inside by his lapels. They were so keyed up, they hadn’t even noticed the door to the cottage wasn’t all the way closed, a fact they only realized after the door swung open while Crowley was fucking Aziraphale within an inch of his life. (A minor miracle had to be used to lock the door and take away the shock from everyone within earshot.)

“Yes, Crowley, yes, you – ah!” Aziraphale cried out as Crowley gripped his hips and started relentlessly thrusting into him.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Crowley knew he was hitting the spot that would send the angel over the edge.

“Yes, yes.” Aziraphale was now furiously fingering himself, and Crowley reached forward and pushed his hand away.

“Let me do that.” Crowley continued the motions Aziraphale had been doing, adding a little bit of vibration to his fingers, just because. The sounds they were making now were nothing short of obscene, bodies slamming against bodies, Aziraphale letting out little squeaks every time Crowley thrust into him.

“You remember how we did this the last time?”

“Yes, oh, yes,” Aziraphale did remember, but he was too close to coming to say anything else; Crowley knew it and went just a little faster, just a little harder, and reached up to tangle his fingers into Aziraphale’s hair and pull ever-so-slightly in time with a particularly deep thrust, and Aziraphale came, tightening around Crowley and crying out in pleasure. Crowley knew to slow down and give his angel a little time to compose himself without fully pulling out and he did so, rocking against Aziraphale’s plush arse, leaning forward and kissing Aziraphale on the neck.

“Oh, lord, Crowley, my god,” Aziraphale said breathlessly. He turned around to press his lips against Crowley’s.

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Good enough to make you blaspheme, hmm?”

Azirpahale laid his head down on the ledge of the couch and laughed quietly. Crowley hadn’t gone soft yet, but he started to slowly pull out. “You all tired out?”

Aziraphale whipped his head around. “No! Absolutely not!” He pushed back against Crowley and gazed at him with the pleading look he used whenever he wanted his way.

Now it was Crowley’s turn to laugh; he smacked Aziraphale’s arse just hard enough to make a nice thwap sound. “Can’t carry you into the bedroom like this, Angel.”

Aziraphale pouted, then hiked up his trousers enough to be able to walk and took Crowley’s hand. “You’re right.” He led them up the narrow stairway with the creaky floorboards and the faded wallpaper into the cozy bedroom. Crowley put both his hands on Aziraphale’s face and kissed him tenderly, reverently; Aziraphale began removing his attire in the usual order: bowtie, waistcoat, shirt, belt, trousers. Crowley often got impatient and divested Aziraphale out of his clothes with a little magic, but at the moment, he wasn’t in a hurry. He continued kissing Aziraphale while the angel unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off his shoulders.

“Oh,” Crowley gasped out as Aziraphale skillfully maneuvered his trousers and pants off of him; he was so hard he could barely focus.

Aziraphale scrambled up onto the bed. “Come up here, dear, I’m afraid I still need some seeing to.”

“Afraid, are you?” Crowley chuckled, then he wrapped his hands around the Aziraphale’s thick thighs and pulled him to the edge of the bed.

“Oh!” Aziraphale exclaimed as Crowley dove tongue-first into him. In terms of reenacting their first day in the cottage, this wasn’t exactly how it went; but as Crowley brought him to a spectacular orgasm using that wicked tongue, well, he wasn’t going to make a fuss about it. After Aziraphale came a third time with his fingers tangled in Crowley’s hair, he lifted Crowley’s dripping face away from his cunt. “Please, dear, I-" he was panting, and out of breath.

“Need a break now?”

“Yes, please.” Aziraphale was sweating and his chest was heaving as Crowley snuggled up next to him and tossed a slender leg over his torso. They laid still for a few moments until the angel was composed enough to speak in full sentences. “Should we head to the next stop on this tour of remembrances?”

“I think you should come with me to the loo.”

“To the loo?”

“Well,” Crowley waved his hand dismissively, “not the loo – not like that, I mean the upstairs washroom.”

“I believe the proper order was sofa, bedroom, kitchen, garden, and then the-"

“But you’re all-" Crowley reached for an excuse, “-sweaty.”

“That’s never bothered you before,” Aziraphale huffed. “I’m an angel, after all, so it isn’t as though I need to cleanse myself after we-"

“Angel, Angel, that’s not what I meant.” Crowley got up and offered Aziraphale his hand. “What I’m trying to say is… I think this place has had some significant renovations to certain rooms of the cottage since we were here last.”

Aziraphale’s mouth formed into a lovely, cute ‘o’ as he took Crowley’s hand and followed him into the upstairs wash room, which had indeed had been redone. There was now a huge shower with blue and white tile, elegant glass doors, and a showerhead the size of a giant platter. Crowley watched Aziraphale’s face as the angel took in the perfect lighting, the giant towels, the plush cotton mat underneath his feet.

“Shall we?” Crowley snapped his fingers and hot water began pouring out of the showerhead; Aziraphale thought he caught a hint of lavender in the steam that started to fill the room. Aziraphale shot Crowley a look over his shoulder as he opened the door and stepped under the stream of water. The demon embraced him from behind and began nibbling at his neck. Aziraphale hummed and placed his hands over Crowley’s; the demon continued letting his fingers wander over Aziraphale’s belly, chest, arms. “You feel so good,” Crowley mumbled against Aziraphale’s neck.

The angel reached behind him and took Crowley’s hard length in hand. “As do you, darling.” Crowley shuddered, and Aziraphale turned around to kiss him. “Care to continue indulging me?”

“Greedy angel,” Crowley said with a smile as Aziraphale’s soft hands roamed down the length of his back.

“Is that a yes?”

“Course it is.” Crowley nibbled along the edge of Aziraphale’s jaw.

“Oh, how lovely,” Aziraphale maneuvered himself so his back was against the tiled wall and awkwardly wrapped a leg around Crowley. “Hmm. This corporation isn’t exactly the most flexible or, how are we going to – oh!” He gasped as Crowley grabbed him by the thighs and effortlessly hoisted him up.

“How about like this?”

Aziraphale was flustered in the way he most loved to be when they were together like this. “That’s – yes.”

“All right.” Crowley grinned wickedly as he took himself in hand and started to gently push in, apparently a bit too slowly for Aziraphale’s taste.

“Give me that,” Aziraphale demanded, grabbing Crowley’s cock with one hand and his bony hip with the other.

Crowley obliged and pushed in. “Oh, Angel, you feel bloody fantastic,” he hissed.

Aziraphale clutched Crowley’s shoulders as the demon began slowly thrusting into him, undulating his body as he did so. “Crowley, do you remember the first time we did this?”

“Um, I – I’m not sure, I don’t think what they had in Rome quite counted as a shower-"

“No, love, I meant the first time we were together like this.” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley through little drops of water that had gathered on his eyelashes.

Crowley stilled. “Of course I do,” he said, the break in his voice gracefully disguised by the sound of running water. Aziraphale wiggled his hips, and Crowley resumed his motions. “Couldn’t ever forget it,” he said against Aziraphale’s neck.

“Me either. And now we get to do this all the time, how lucky we are.”

“Yeah.” Crowley was running his hands through Aziraphale’s hair and cupping his jaw. Wait – if Crowley’s hands were on his face then what was holding him up? The angel realized he was being supported by something that felt rather solid while Crowley leisurely fucked into him.

“How on earth are you doing that?” Aziraphale asked incredulously.

“Shh.” Crowley put a finger to Aziraphale’s lips before kissing him hungrily. “Don’t worry about it.” He continued the steady motions of his hips while Aziraphale remained in place against the tiled wall. Once the angel tossed his head back and the words from his mouth became cries of pleasure, Crowley ratcheted up his speed and gave Aziraphale everything he had. “Go on, Angel, let go,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale dug his nails into Crowley’s back and let himself be swept away by his pleasure. Crowley relished in the feel of Aziraphale coming on his cock, clenching around him and moaning against the crook of his neck as the warm water washed in rivulets over them. Crowley gritted his teeth and held himself back until Aziraphale was completely finished, at which point the angel continued whispering a filthy stream of encouragement in his ear. That had always been Crowley’s undoing, and Aziraphale knew it. His pace began to falter, and he hissed out a warning before thrusting deep into Aziraphale and remaining there, filling the angel with welcomed warmth. Crowley came for what felt like forever, stuttering out declarations of love and adoration while Aziraphale stroked the back of his neck and landed kisses all over his forehead.

Crowley groaned as he slipped out of Aziraphale and had to put a hand on the wall to steady himself. “I do hope I haven’t tired you out too much, love,” Aziraphale said cheekily before reaching for a bottle of his favorite expensive body wash that had materialized out of nowhere. “It’s just now the early afternoon. Wash my back?”

Crowley chuckled and washed Aziraphale’s shoulders and back with the rose-scented gel. He then allowed Aziraphale to do the same, grumbling a minimal amount when Aziraphale cooed over how delicious he smelled in something floral, instead of ‘that smoky stuff you always wear.’ Finally, Aziraphale shut off the water and they stepped out of the shower onto the mat, which was seemingly fluffier than before. Crowley helped the angel into a large fluffy bathrobe before slinging a towel around his narrow waist.

Aziraphale dried off his hair and formed it into little perfect waves before walking back into the bedroom. “Well, my dear, that was rather spectacular.”

“Glad it was up to your standards.” Crowley smacked Aziraphale lightly on the arse.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and began dressing himself. “The high standards I have for our intimate time together are standards you yourself have set.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re the one who’s been fucking me into alternate dimensions for the past seven months,” Aziraphale said with a raised eyebrow. Crowley tried to speak, but choked instead. “Cat got your tongue, my darling?”

“Have I ever told you you’re a right bastard sometimes?” Crowley croaked out.

Aziraphale chuckled, and Crowley dressed himself the lazy way, with a wave of his hand. He walked down the stairs and Aziraphale followed closely behind.

“I wonder if those two have killed each other yet. They’ve been out there for-” Crowley checked his watch, “-two and a half hours. Hmm. Guess we’re going to have to explain ourselves a bit, aren’t we?”

“Oh, that? That’s no problem at all.” Aziraphale wiggled his fingers, and the clock now read twenty after two, about twenty-five minutes give or take after they’d arrived.

“Didn’t know you were into bending time,” Crowley said.

“I did learn from the best. Oh! Can’t forget this.” Aziraphale used a glass cabinet as a mirror and slipped his bow tie around his neck.

Crowley did his part, and before their eyes, The Cottage reverted to its empty display state, all the dated yet cozy décor and furniture gone. He crossed his arms and leaned against a wall.

Aziraphale finally finished adjusting his bow tie. “My dear, you seem a little - well, pardon me for saying so - morose, at least for the occasion. Is something the matter?”

The small pouch in Crowley’s front pocket felt like it was about to burn a hole through it. Oh, he’d planned this all so carefully, he had. First the cottage plan fell through, which caused everything else to go askew. Or had it?

“Um. No. I mean. It’s just. Was gonna surprise you. With all this. It was supposed to be a surprise,” Crowley muttered.

Aziraphale laughed; his angelic voice tinkled off the now-empty walls. “And I was trying to surprise you, my dear.” He placed a hand on Crowley’s arm. “I suppose this is what we get, trying to keep secrets from one another like this.”

Crowley stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Suppose so.” He looked out the window.

“Really, love, is there something else that’s bothering you? I can feel you trembling.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale’s face, etched with concern. Well, he’d just have to go ahead and do it, now that he’d practically shown his hand like this. Wasn’t really how he’d pictured it, or practiced it, but…

“Erm,” Crowley let out a few unintelligible sounds, ran a hand through his hair. “So, I, uh, I know we’re eternal beings and all.”

Aziraphale cocked his head. “Yes?”

“And it’s probably not - I mean, it might not be that important. Or we don’t have to make a huge deal out of it, you know.”

“Out of what?”

“Umm, buhh, well, I - it’s not a big deal, really - but I had wondered if, you know. Certain things might be a little easier for us if we, if we um-"

Aziraphale put a hand on Crowley’s face, and the demon thought he might pass out from the care and love he could feel radiating off of his angel. “Crowley, my dear, you’re talking in circles. I’m trying my best to follow along, but I fear I don’t quite understand what it is you’re trying to call to my attention, only that I feel it must be rather important.”

“Well, I just-" Crowley coughed, “-it would probably make things a lot smoother for us if we - well, if you - if we, um. You know. Got married.”

“Married?” Aziraphale asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah.” Crowley fished the black pouch out of his pocket and held up a ring; a shade somewhere between gold and silver with delicate swirls surrounding a light blue sapphire. “Had it made a long time ago, actually. It’s from that place you liked. In Barcelona.”

“Oh goodness, that was a rather long time ago.” Aziraphale’s entire face had lit up, and Crowley either saw a faint glow around his white, fluffy hair, or his vision had somehow gone a bit blurry. “I did so love nearly everything in that little shop,” the angel said quietly.

Crowley watched Aziraphale hold the ring up to the light. He didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until he felt little trembles in his feet, his legs, his hands. Aziraphale laughed; and for a moment Crowley was braced for the worst.

“Oh, I must not have said that out loud! Of course, Crowley, I would be delighted to take your hand in marriage.” He took Crowley’s hand, and got the demon to help him carefully slip the ring onto his finger.

Crowley was finally able to take a huge breath. “Well. That’s - that’s good.”

“And not just because it would make something like purchasing this cottage easier,” Aziraphale said before wrapping his hand around the back of Crowley’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss. Crowley closed his eyes and held Aziraphale tight. A few moments later, the angel pulled away and demurely batted his eyelashes.

“Well,” Aziraphale turned to the mirror and began re-tying his bow tie, “I suppose we should get back out there and work out the situation with the contracts and payment and all of that.”

“No.”

“No? You don’t want to-”

“I’m buying the cottage,” Crowley said. “You are not going to put a penny down.”

“Please, dear, let me at least contribute a little something.”

“No. Nope. Absolutely not. No.”

Aziraphale sighed. This was a constant battle between the two of them, and seeing as how Crowley always won at picking up the tab, it seemed that wasn’t going to change today.

“I came here to buy this place for you and that’s damned well what I’m going to do. You ready?” Crowley had his hand on the doorknob.

“I – I could use a moment to, to gather myself, after all, I have been thoroughly ravished over near every surface in this cottage for the past several hours.” Aziraphale gestured towards the mirror.

“You look great. Dare I say, perfect, even.”

Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley saw the hint of a blush dancing over his cheeks. “Shall we?”

Crowley opened the door and followed Aziraphale out into the perfect sunny afternoon. Rupert and Mick were playing around with their phones, leaning up against the respective vehicles that had brought them there, backs to one another. Once they heard the click of Crowley’s boots on the pavement, both Mick and Rupert snapped their attention to where Aziraphale and Crowley now stood.

“We’ll take it,” Aziraphale said decisively.

“What do you mean, ‘we’ll?” Rupert huffed.

Crowley held up their interlaced hands. “We mean we. Us. This is my fiance.”

Aziraphale was blushing, which Crowley loved. His hair was thoroughly mussed, his lips a just-bitten shade of red; Crowley also loved this. He looked at Aziraphale’s neck and saw a small bruise forming just above the angel’s collar. Crowley loved this most of all, and nearly had to adjust his trousers.

“And we will take the cottage,” Aziraphale repeated.

“But if you both buy the cottage…” Mick trailed off and glared at Rupert.

“Oh, right. Neither of you will get the fee then, will you? Well. That’s a shame for the both of you, innit?” Crowley said. “Not our problem, though.”

“But, we don’t – I don’t have any idea how to process a sale like this,” Rupert said.

Crowley strutted over to where Mick was leaning against the Bentley. “Get off of my car,” he said flatly. Mick jumped backwards.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to the office? I bet I can knock fifteen – no, twenty – percent off the place!” Mick said.

Crowley grumbled a response and brought out two large suitcases from the back of the Bentley. “Thought I only had one of these in here…” he muttered to himself before looking up to see Aziraphale grinning.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Crowley said firmly. “You’re going to take this,“ he shoved a suitcase into Mick’s hands, “and you’re going to take this,” he gave the other to Rupert, “and then you’re going to get us the papers for this place within the hour.”

“And the keys!” Aziraphale called out.

“Yeah. And the keys.”

“But you’ll still have to work out the financing!” Mick objected.

Rupert was the first to pry open his suitcase and glimpse the stacks and stacks of cash inside. His jaw dropped and he walked over to Mick with a finger over his mouth, attempting to shush him. Crowley walked back up to the walk that led to the cottage and put his arm around Aziraphale.

“You see this? There’s more money in each of these suitcases that we’d make in six months,” Rupert hissed. Mick opened his suitcase and went silent.

Aziraphale delicately cleared his throat. “I’m certain that you two can assess the situation and perhaps get us the appropriate documents by day’s end?”

“Absolutely” / “Yes, sir,” Rupert and Mick responded simultaneously.

“Lovely. Mr. Crowley and I will wait inside for you.”

Mick ran to Rupert’s car, which was the same ostentatious shade of purple as his suit, and they peeled off down the street, tyres squealing to the end of the block. Crowley couldn’t stop laughing. “Oh, you got them good, Angel”

Aziraphale chuckled and started walking back towards the cottage. “Care to join me?”

Crowley shrugged. “Sure, if you want. Not much in there, though. We could go anywhere, take a walk on the beach, or-”

“Oh, we may have to get back in there and see how things look. I have a feeling we may find the kitchen table is as it was,” Aziraphale said with a sly grin.

Crowley beat him to the door, making absolutely sure to lock it this time.


End file.
